


New Year's Eve

by musicin68



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Porn with Feelings, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 01:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicin68/pseuds/musicin68
Summary: The last year has been awful. Chrisjen and Arjun's marriage is crumbling, and Chrisjen knows it's mostly her fault. A new year is about to begin and Chrisjen is grabbing at the chance of a fresh start.Based on the tumblr prompt:Chrisjen/author's choice - "No one needs to know."





	New Year's Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [R_S_B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_S_B/gifts).



The New Year’s Eve party was in full swing even though it was hours yet until midnight. Dignitaries, diplomats, and bureaucrats hobnobbed with the business elite of the Maharashtra-Karnataka-Goa Communal Interest Zone. Chrisjen greeted another stuffed shirt with a trained smile and tried yet again to settle the roil in her stomach that had nothing to do with working the room. The last fucking year had been the worst of her life, but she wasn’t sure the end of this one and the dawn of the new would bring anything better.

Arjun was distant and withdrawn from her; they barely spoke. She knew that was more her fault than his. She had been vicious and efficient in pushing him away in her vitriolic, impotent anger. Was it any surprise he had all but vanished? Ashanti still wasn’t speaking to her. She was her father’s daughter; as far as she was concerned Chrisjen was at fault for everything. And Charanpal, well he wasn’t ever coming back. She suspected that emptiness would gnaw at her for the rest of her life.

She spotted her husband across the room and shadowed him from across the banquet hall. This was the first function he had attended with her in almost four months. She wasn’t sure why he had agreed to come tonight, but she intended to use it to her advantage. She paused at the bar; liquid courage, that’s what she wanted right now. She ordered a gin and tonic for herself and a whiskey soda for him, leaving the bartender a hefty tip. Refreshments in hand, she walked purposefully across the room. The crowd parted around her and Arjun gave her a small nod as she handed him a drink.

“Thank you.”

She swallowed a mouthful. “Of course.” She cast about for something to engage him. “Did the semester wrap up satisfactorily?”

“Mmm, reasonably so,” he affirmed before falling silent again.

Chrisjen glanced about the room. This was fucking ridiculous. Chrisjen could carry on a conversation with a stranger struck dumb if she wanted to. She and Arjun had been married almost twenty-five years and she couldn’t think of a goddamn thing to say. She took another drink.

Finally, she put a hand to his arm and deposited her empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray. “Come with me. I want to play a game.”

A bemused Arjun followed suit and allowed himself to be guided to the wide staircase leading to the floor above. Chrisjen found a spot by the railing that overlooked the massive ballroom and surveyed the people on the floor below. She pointed to a man dressed in a striking morning coat, a dark red sash across his chest. “Who is that?”

A flicker of a smile crossed Arjun’s face. “This might have worked when we were young, but I don’t think we can really play anymore. There isn’t a person in this room that you don’t know. How will you look them in the face the next day having made up ridiculous stories about them?”

She snorted. “It can’t possibly be worse than what I actually know about them. Please? For tonight I’ll pretend I don’t know a soul,” Chrisjen wheedled.

A sad sort of look crossed Arjun’s face before he smiled at her and relented, turning his attention to the man in question. “So stiff. He must be a low level diplomat. No, better yet, he is a low-level diplomat’s aide. No one of consequence.”

“He’s certainly dressed with more panache than your everyday government aide.”

“It’s still my turn and you don’t know anyone, remember? He’s only borrowed the outfit. He would like to pretend that the gala tonight was in his honor, but he’s too afraid to enjoy himself. He’s certain that any moment someone will decide he’s been invited by mistake and have him removed.”

“Not bad,” Chrisjen gave him a coy smile. “Not good, but not bad. My turn.”

Arjun took another minute to watch the people. Chrisjen watched him. She was gambling on nostalgia to help span the gap between them, even if it was a silly game they had played when she had just started politicking in earnest. Once upon a time she had delighted in coming up with stories to make him laugh, each more outlandish than the last. Now, it would be enough if he could see a little of the woman she had been before. Perhaps she was still in there somewhere.

“The woman in the gold sari. Who is she?”

“A district governor.”

“What a coincidence,” he said dryly.

Chrisjen elbowed him good-naturedly. “I’m not finished. She’s the district governor, but has only been just appointed. She would be excellent at the job, but she has no one she can rely on and must do everything herself.”

“Good help is hard to find.”

She laughed and decided to abandon pretense. “It is. A complete disaster.” Chrisjen locked eyes with her husband, her free hand finding his. “She’s lonely, but hopeful that tonight she might not have to be.”

The sad look appeared again on his face, but he said nothing. A spike of anger, or maybe despair, lanced her. It made her want to slap him, but she smiled through it. She was making the fucking effort. The least he could do would be to acknowledge that. “Why did you agree to come tonight?”

“I don’t know,” he said softly. “It’s the new year. There’s something poetic about that.”

“Poetic?” she scoffed in jest. “It isn’t even on an equinox or a solstice. It’s an arbitrary date on a civic calendar. Where’s the poetry in that?”

“Who’s the expert on poetry here?”

She inclined her head with a smile. “I don’t know. I'd have to hear some to be certain.”

A voice called her name, and she closed her eyes with a sigh, “Shit.”

“Chrisjen!” Her latest protege came bounding up the stairs. “Do you have a minute?”

“Actually, Sadavir, I don’t.” She gave Arjun’s hand a squeeze.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Your activist from South America?” She waved a hand dismissively. “I spoke with him earlier. I don’t think I need to again.”

“With the right backing I really think—”

“He’s an idiot.”

Sadavir nodded in grudging agreement. “Yes, but he’s got charisma. He’ll be able to unite people.”

“You’re more than welcome to keep working on your pet project as long as it doesn’t interfere with mine. And right now you’re fucking interfering with mine. Go find something else to do.”

Errinwright smiled in the face of her exapseration. “Alright, alright. We can talk later, Chrisjen. Arjun.” He nodded her husband and returned to the party. Chrisjen saw him stop to speak to one of her aides and point in her direction.

“Jesus Christ, what new fucking fire can they not put out on their own?”

“If you need to go, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Don’t you start. I didn’t invite you here so you could be a martyr. Come on.” She tugged him down the hall and around the corner out of sight, but not earshot of the party. Finally, she came to the door she had decided on when she'd been making last minute arrangements in the building yesterday. It opened in to a softly lit lounge, decorated with deep leather armchairs, a long sofa and vivid Persian style rugs. One wall was lined with bookcases, the opposite housed windows looking down onto the lights of Mumbai. She pushed the door shut behind them leaned against it with a sigh.

“Chrisjen.” Arjun’s voice took on the tenor of a parent. “Are we going to hide in here all night from your employees?”

“Not all night, no.” She let go of his hand and stepped further into the room.

He sighed. “Why _did_ you ask me to come tonight?”

She turned back to face him, searching his face for something that would signal that their marriage wasn’t over. She had come here with a plan. Chrisjen closed the gap between them. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him against the wall before she brought herself up on her toes to kiss him. Even in heels he still had an inch on her.

To her immediate relief Arjun kissed her back. Soft and slow, his mustache making her nose tickle. His arms closed around her and her hands slid down his sides to his hips, tugging his kameez up until she could get them underneath it. Chrisjen pulled his lower lip into her mouth and was rewarded with a low moan. She grinned into the kiss and fished for the drawstring of his trousers.

Arjun mumbled something against her mouth and she broke the kiss. “What?”

“ _Baubles of stolen kisses._ ”

“Mmm. There’s the poetry expert. I hope you don’t mind skipping out on the free food.”

“A feast of the flesh instead?”

“Something like that.”

He moved back to her lips, one hand tangling in her hair, tugging at the pins securing it. It was going to be a mess but she didn’t care. He began gently pushing her back away from the wall.

The cord at his navel had knotted. “Goddamnit.” She bent her head and her attention to the task of undoing the snarl. When she was successful in getting it to release she looked up to see Arjun watching her. His hands trailed feather light down her arms and he pushed her pallu, which had been draped long to her wrist, all the way up onto her shoulder. She had chosen a short blouse and his actions exposed her flanks. Arjun’s eyes roamed over her as if he was trying to memorize the sight and she felt suddenly naked.

Chrisjen shook herself and undid the strap of the small bag attached to her wrist. From it she produced a small bottle of lubricant and poured some into her hand.

A laugh escaped Arjun. “A planned seduction? Perhaps the party was in my honor after all. Are you wearing underwear?”

“When have you ever known me not to go after what I want with purpose?”

“Never.”

There was that damned sad look again. Instead of punching him Chrisjen retaliated by thrusting her hand down his trousers and grabbing his stiffening cock. He hissed satisfactorily. She ran her hand up and down the length of it, working the lube around as she maneuvered him to the couch. She pulled the waistband loose and let his pants and boxers fall before instructing him to lay down. She continued the hand job a while longer, using her free hand to cup his balls. She kneaded them gently with each stroke. “Huunh, Chrisjen,” Arjun moaned. Pleased with her work, Chrisjen gathered up her sari and petticoat to straddle him only to have him sit up as she swung her leg over. “Chrisjen, wait. Not like this.”

She froze. For a moment Chrisjen was certain that he was going to leave. He couldn’t forgive her, and their marriage really was over. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away rapidly as she sat back.

Then he leaned into kiss her again and relief flooded her like a drug. Arjun tried to pull her sari apart, but she had pinned it to her top in anticipation of a different sort of encounter and he only ended up tangling her in fabric. She reached up to help him and his hands began roaming her body. By the time she had unfastened it he had undone the zipper on the back of her blouse. He pulled it down her arms exposing her breasts and she hummed appreciatively as he rubbed at the red marks it left banded around her ribcage.

Arjun grabbed her knee and turned her to sit properly on the cushions. He kicked off his sandals and knelt in front of her. She shivered as his hands slid up her thighs, bunching the sapphire blue of her petticoat around her. He pulled a leg over his shoulder. A gasp escaped her as he bowed his head in supplication and his tongue laved her clit. “Oh fuck!”

Pleasure radiated from her core and she laid back on the deep sofa, wanting to rock and buck with his deft ministrations. He knew exactly what she liked. Fuck, she had forgotten how good it had been. He brought his hands up to her breasts and found her nipples. A cry escaped her as he pebbled them, teasing them beneath his fingers. She did buck at that, her hips rolling back and forth of their own accord.

Arjun released one breast and brought his hand back down. He slid one finger and then another inside her and she whimpered with need, nerves singing as he worked in and out of her in concert with his tongue. Nonsense spilled from her lips as he pushed her closer and closer to climax. “Oh, fuuuuuuuuck. God. Yes! Arjun, I—auh—”

The rhythm of his fingers increased as he lifted his head. “‘ _When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me to long-ago rooms where memories lie_ ’” he quoted. “Come for me, Chrisjen.”

He bent once again to his work, his tongue dancing as she writhed and moaned. Chrisjen’s fingers fisted in his hair as he pushed her to completion. She cried out, tumbling in the crashing wave, every muscle tensed in the moment of certainty she would never draw breath again. She slowly became aware of Arjun peppering her with kisses as she came down from her high. “That was,” she took a shaking breath, “not the plan.”

“That,” Arjun replied as he moved to sit next to her, “was for me.”

“All evidence to the contrary.” Chrisjen eyed his softening cock and took it in hand.

“I don’t know when...oh” Arjun trailed off with a moan as Chrisjen resumed the long, steady strokes she had employed earlier allowing the head to push through her thumb and forefinger. He quickly regained his erection.

He pulled her up to her knees and turned her away from him, pressing himself against her from behind. She undid the drawstring of her petticoat letting blue and silver pool around her. Arjun moaned and she could feel his cock twitch against her ass. Chrisjen put a hand on the back of the couch to steady herself and cocked her hips back. “Fuck me already.”

“With great and deliberate pleasure.”

Arjun guided himself into her and she bit down on her lip. She still felt engorged and lush from her own orgasm and she could feel every inch of him moving inside her. His hands wrapped around her to squeeze and fondle her aching breasts. Her breathy pants became a keening sound as he moved faster.

Arjun’s breath was hot against her neck and he began to lick and suck at the pulse point beneath her chin, nipping his way to her ear. She reached behind her to caress the back of his neck, encouraging him to continue. He mouthed over the lobe hidden beneath her large crystal earrings and bit lightly on the outer curve of her ear with a grunt.

It wasn’t often that she came a second time so soon after the first, but Chrisjen was keyed and she could tell she was on the edge. She let go of the couch to play with herself and grabbed it again as she almost fell over. “I need more,” she complained as she rocked into him.

Arjun released a breast and slipped his hand down to her clit. His fingers rubbed circles over the tight bundle of nerves but his pace slowed as he focused once again on her. She began rocking back in response, furiously fucking herself on him. Her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps and Arjun gave her nipple a final sharp tug and she crested again. He held her as she shuddered around him and then moved his hands to her hips. It only took two more quick thrusts and then he too came with a cry, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

He held her close and Chrisjen smiled at the warmth in her belly. It was a small win in the battle to salvage their marriage, but it was a win. When he finally slipped out of her she fished for her handbag. Cursing when she couldn’t find it, she wiped herself with her petticoat and stood. She only realized her muscles ached from balancing in the unusual position now that her orgasm had faded.

“Thank you for that.” She turned at the choked sound of Arjun’s voice. He was crying.

“No!” She wiped her thumbs over his cheeks. “These had better be tears of fucking joy.”

“I couldn’t help thinking of ‘la petite mort’. The little death. New Year’s Eve is the death of the year after all.”

“And after death comes rebirth,” she said, finally understanding his sadness. “You thought I was ending us with a bang. Literally. You do have the heart of a poet.”

He nodded. “This is rebirth then?”

“I want that more than anything.”

She shook her head as she tried to straighten out her sari. Arjun handed her the blouse and zipped her back in when she turned. “I’m sorry to cut your plans short for the night, but I don’t think there’s any way we’ll salvage this mess.”

Chrisjen sighed in agreement and began tucking her rumpled sari back into her slightly sticky petticoat. “No battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy. Shall we go home?”

“I think as headlines go, District Governor Skips Out On New Year’s Bash is preferable to District Governor Returns to New Year’s Bash After Having Been Obviously and Throughly Pleasured By Her Husband, don’t you?”

Chrisjen grinned like a cat. “Actually, I rather like the sound of that last one.”

“I can just imagine the scoop when the first reporter learns you still aren’t wearing underwear.”

Chrisjen backhanded his chest playfully and led him to a door on the far side of the room. “Hush. No one needs to know.”

**Author's Note:**

> The poem quoted by Arjun is "When You Come" by Maya Angelou.


End file.
